Breathe
by beingawesome
Summary: Nijimura Shuuzou's an Omega, but he hasn't told anyone this, for the better. Unfortunately, that decision comes back at him: and not in the good way. [Rated M for triggers]
1. One

**WARNING: This has non-con in it, please don't read if this triggers you in any way. I repeat, DO NOT read this if you get triggered by rape and/or have panic attacks. Please.**

* * *

The start to his downfall is anything but anticlimactic.

Shuuzou remembers his decision to take a break. ' _Just for three months, but I'll miss the Inter-High_ ', he recalls telling Seijuro, ' _Make me proud, Captain Akashi_.' It was only really because of the upcoming examinations; he _had_ to keep up his grades to keep playing, after all, since Teiko demanded excellence in _all_ aspects, including education. It couldn't hurt, he thought to himself, to hand over the reins temporarily to an Alpha as skilled and qualified as Akashi Seijuro.

He couldn't be further from the truth.

He remembers tuning into one of their matches, unwilling to study, and noting that it was against Tetsuya's friend's team, not being able to help the slow smile that spread over his lips at the thought of Tetsuya finally fulfilling his promise; the very pact he confessed after a late practice, amid exhaustion. He was happy for his underclassman, recollecting, in a brief flash, familiar dark eyes, delicate features, and distinctive beauty mark decorating pale skin, before rejecting the thought outright.

But as the game progressed, the smile gradually shortened, slipping at the edges before the corners of his mouth turned down fully, and his eyes grew wide. His stomach curdled sickeningly, stone creeping over his heart, making it sink in his chest. The score…. the score was _111-11_.

What were they doing? _What were they doing_?

Shuuzou remembers scrambling for the phone, shakily pressing it to his ear and demanding _what the hell was Seijuro thinking, damn it_ , only to hear a cold voice saying it was necessary. He remembers putting it down, heart pounding furiously in his ears, and wondering _what on earth_ Seijuro was saying, _how was that necessary_?

He remembered them promising him that they really loved basketball, even Atsushi, and thinking to himself, _fuck it_.

He resumed club activities, even though keeping up his preparations for his exams at the same time would tire him out. But, truth be told, he would run himself to the ground for them, because they had so much potential and _so much love_ for the sport, even if they pretended otherwise.

And it took months and months upon perseverance and struggle for them to reach some semblance of normalcy. But it worked out, somehow, and Shuuzou resolved not to leave those kids alone for the next year or so, because he couldn't let it happen again.

And now, they're at the Winter Cup and Shuuzou supports them from the side lines, as always. He's careful not to let any five of the seven play together at a time, mixing them up with the other first-stringers to maintain an acceptable score. He himself plays very occasionally, but still religiously wears his rainbow armband on his left, in remembrance of the gift from his Miracles.

It's the semi-finals right now, with the two teams at a stalemate of _12-12_. Shuuzou isn't too worried, knowing that the score is as it is because he hasn't put Atsushi on court yet and thoughtfully flicks his eyes toward the current line-up.

Atsushi's warming up by the bench, lazy pout forming on his face, while Shintaro is diligently stretching a further distance away, with a complete lack of cheer. Seijuro and Ryouta were in for the first quarter already, and he's lined up Kuroko and Daiki for the third quarter and Shougo and himself for the fourth.

"You brats remember what I told you, right?" He asks them seriously, Seijuro present by his side as always.

"Yeah, _yeah_ , Niji-chin," He feels a vein throb at Atsushi's casual address, and he adds in a strong shoulder-flick for that, "Don't crush them, that's all."

"Really Murasakibura," Shintaro shakes his head in derision, "He just means not to get too obsessive about our play, correct?"

He aims the last part towards Shuuzou, and he nods in response, trying to quell the guilt rising in him.

"I'm sorry, but this is what we've got to do until you kids reach college," He says gruffly, before waving the two Alphas onto the court, "Have fun."

"Are you feeling alright, Shuuzou-senpai?" Seijuro lofts an eyebrow in response to his shrug, "If you're not feeling well, we can always substitute either myself or Tetsuya in."

"No, it's fine." He waves off the concern, knowing nothing's wrong with him since he took his suppressants in the morning, "I'm just tired of seeing all you brats fighting all the goddamn time."

Seijuro nods, but it's got to be the most sarcastic gesture Shuuzou's ever seen.

They perform excellently, as usual, and the little fightback the other team had is easily quelled at the hand of Tetsuya and Daiki's partnership, along with Shougo's brazen attack. Shuuzou himself just plays more defensively, despite his offence being his strong suit, just to compensate.

Unfortunately, the rise of desperation in the other team also brings with it a multitude of fouls, most of them aimed at him because of their inability to land on Shougo, but he manages to bear it. He hasn't trained so hard for nothing, after all.

He's sweating, of course, by the time the final whistle is blown, and his right ankle stings just a bit, but he's fine, overall. He doesn't forget to yank Shougo back by the ear when he tries to leave before the end-match formalities.

"Where do _you_ think you're going, brat?" He asks rhetorically, tugging even harder at the Alpha's ear despite the angry cursing following the action.

"Away from here, of course," The male spits out, eyes alight, "I don't give a shit about these fucktards any—OW!"

"Care to repeat that, Shougo?" His lips curl upwards in a sugary sweet smile, as he twists his fingers powerfully, "I didn't hear you the first time."

He murmured something unintelligibly, before muttering, with gritted teeth, "I was going to go drink water before shaking hands."

"That's what I thought." Shuuzou lets go, running a hand through his damp hair and grimacing. He needs to wash his face right after shaking hands, and that's what he does eventually, waving the other members to the bus.

"Senpai, are you sure?" Seijuro hedges, and Shuuzou rolls his eyes in exasperation, lightly flicking the redhead.

"I'll be alright, Jesus, why're you so concerned today?"

"No reason," A brief hesitation crosses his face, before it settles back into its usual cool façade, "We shall see you in the bus then, senpai."

"Right. Now leave, punks." He turns around and starts walking, not waiting for an answer.

It's only when he sees them leave, from the corner of his eye, that he allows himself to wince in pain from his ankle. It was just lightly stinging before, but now it's beginning to throb, and Shuuzou can tell it's going to be painful tonight.

The corridors are practically barren since most other teams have left, so he takes advantage of the silence to think. About the team, of course.

He still worries sometimes. Seijuro still conflicts with his dual personality, Daiki still sometimes struggles to enjoy basketball like he once did, Atsushi still occasionally plays just to toy with people…and the list goes on and on. He's managed to curb some of these problems by making the seven play against each other during practices, but there's only so much he can do for the future. These kids have the potential to revolutionize Japan's basketball, and he plans to treat them as they deserve to be.

He thinks that, maybe, they should split up once they reach college. It'd be for the best.

Shaking the disruptive thought from his mind, he heads inside the bathroom, immediately beelining for the sink, splashing his flushed face with cold water and reveling in the feel of it against his skin. He eyes himself critically in the mirror with sharp grey eyes, taking in how his hair is practically glued to his forehead, along with the fact that his cheeks look slightly red. It slightly bothers him, but he doesn't do anything about it anyway.

As he continues looking in the mirror, trying to pull back his hair, he meets the gaze of a pair of dark brown eyes, noting in boredom that they belong to a player from the team they've just played. He doesn't plan on saying hello, or anything, instead going back to what he was doing before.

Until the other male speaks.

"You're…the captain, right?" His voice is unusually deep, voice monotone, "Of Teiko."

Shuuzou notices his gaze lingering on the rainbow armband and, in accordance with the alarm bells blaring in his head, does nothing, tight-lipped. They guy's probably looking to pick a fight, like a typical Alpha.

"Too good to answer me?" The Alpha mocks, resting his arm on the sink counter, "Well makes sense, since beasts don't have manners."

"Watch your mouth, punk." Shuuzou snaps coldly, ignoring the light throb of his ankle as he shifts to face the annoying shithead, "It's called being gifted. Now, if you'd kindly get the fuck out of the way."

He moves to brush past him, only to falter when two more people enter the scene, both Alphas from the same school. Three Alphas? That might be pushing it, especially on a bad ankle. Why the fuck are the members of his team so good at making trouble for him?

"No, don't go anywhere." The first Alpha spoke, smile icy, "We were having such an _interesting_ conversation."

"No, we weren't," He contradicts calmly, raising an unamused eyebrow at the three, "It might have been stimulating for you, which only really shows you the kind of company you've got, but it's complete trash to me."

"What did you say?" One of them growls, and he doesn't even flinch, too used to it, "I should fucking kill you for this."

"You know the rules, right?" Shuuzou points out wryly, "Conflict isn't allowed within opposing teams."

"Well technically," The first Alpha speaks, boldly, "We're already disqualified. _You_ , on the other hand…well, you're not allowed to take part in any ' _conflicts_ ', are you?"

His gut turns cold. He'll have to beat them up with no marks, which is physically impossible for him. He sets his jaw, unwilling to show them any skepticism.

"Tell me, Oh Great Captain," The man moves closer, threatening smile curling at his lips, "You're a Beta, aren't you? I can't smell shit on you, so you've got to be a common breed."

Shuuzou hates himself for stiffening at the remark, and his fingers dig painfully into the countertop as he glares headily at the piece of shit.

"You're being hilarious," He remarks, before pushing himself off, "My team's waiting for me, so I'll get going."

He flinches involuntarily when a hand grips his wrist, and a sudden smell of _Alpha_ drifts through the air, making him stumble slightly.

"We've always wanted to test this, haven't we Sho?" The second Alpha asks, and the third one—apparently Sho—nods, grinning.

"We've been wondering how much it takes for a Beta to submit," Sho says, and that sends the panic pumping through Shuuzou's veins, "Especially one like you. Ain't that right, Natsu?"

"We'll send you back," The one named Natsu—the first Alpha—grips Shuuzou's arm, and his head starts pounding when he can smell the strong, heady scent permeating the air, "This is just a gift to your… _Miracles_."

"Fuck _off_." He manages to choke out, only for his knees to buckle as the scent grows stronger and stronger, since three Alphas are emitting their pheromones, " _Shit_."

"Regretting your attitude yet?" One of them chuckles, and Shuuzou's not in the right mind to discern between voices anymore. He's beginning to shiver, with cold sweat breaking out over his overheated skin; a symptom he's only experienced once before and _oh fuck_.

"Wait stop." The second Alpha's voice sounds weird, and Shuuzou feels disgusted with himself for actually whimpering at the feel of a cool hand carding through his hair, "Shit, he's an Omega."

"That's all the better," It's the first one speaking, he thinks, before he hears him growl, "I'll take care of him, so get the fuck out."

"I don't know…" This is the third one, and he sounds a little fearful. Shuuzou isn't too sure, entirely too lost in the sensations of sweltering heat enveloping his body to actually notice.

"Get. _The fuck_. Out."

There's silence, with only his heavy breathing filling the air, before there are footsteps shuffling out, and there's the sound of a door slamming shut.

"C'mere, let's take a look at you."

He can't even protest properly as he's tugged up, but tries pushing at the Alpha's chest despite how good the hands feel against his skin.

"I-I don't—" He struggles to say, and shudders when a thumb is rubbed over his scent gland, a pitched whine sounding from his throat at the feel.

"Shut up and be still." The Alpha growls threateningly, and Shuuzou's so far gone that he complies, shrinking back onto himself. It's been so long since he's felt like this, which is why he falls limp into the Alpha's arms with no further prompting.

"Good boy." He shivers when hands brush along his waist, tears pricking at his eyes but not falling when he feels something hard poking against his thigh. He can't believe this. _He can't believe this_.

"Fuck, this is even better than I thought it'd be." The gruff voice pants in his ear, making him shiver in disgust, "Do your dear teammates even know you're one of those breeding mares?"

He doesn't say anything, _can't_ , to those stinging words, but that only lets him know of the answer. His insides curl in disgust when the Alpha noses along his sweaty neck and can't help the terrible shiver that overcomes him when he meets those eyes yet again.

"Let's get the party started, shall we?"

Glassy grey eyes stare shakily into the mirror, noting in disgust the clumped eyelashes, trembling, bitten lips and red-rimmed irises. There's a wad of paper clenched in his right hand, but he doesn't know why he still has it; the paper with those terrible numbers in it, and that terrible name. Everything _hurts_ , and Shuuzou can do nothing but bear the pain.

His fingers drag a despondent trail over the bared column of his neck, and he can't help the nausea that rockets through him at the sight—and feel—of that revolting plum standing out against pale flesh, a mark of possession, of ownership. Shuuzou eventually can't hold it back, emptying his stomach into the toilet until he's dry-heaving, vision blurry.

He's been broken, hasn't he? He feels empty, emptier than ever before and, somehow, that doesn't surprise him in the least. Words he doesn't need to remember—doesn't _want_ to remember—trickle back into his brain, echoing the thought that has been plaguing him for ages and ages on end.

He wishes he were never an Omega. He wishes he were normal, a Beta, not even an Alpha, _just Beta would be fine too_. But, well, there're a lot of stuff he wishes he never had, so one more thing on the list couldn't hurt.

He still doesn't know how he managed to avoid the rest of his teammates well enough; doesn't even _remember_ , quite frankly, anything beyond struggling to get up on his destroyed ankle and wiping himself off with shaky hands.

" _Shuuzou?_ " He hears faintly from beyond his bedroom door, and he panics, looking around him and lunging for his Teiko jacket and slipping it on quickly.

But not quickly enough.

His pseudo-uncle's on him before he even gets the chance to bolt, hands making quick work of his half-worn jacket.

"Shuuzou, what—?" The man trails off, and Shuuzou can see him making the connection, can see the gears turning in his head, and the earth feels dizzyingly close all of a sudden, and he can't breathe, he can't, can't—

' _Fuck, you're so beautiful._ "

Breathe.

' _Perfect to take my cock, aren't you_?'

B-Breathe.

' _I'll be back for you.'_


	2. Two

"Start warming up."

Shuuzou's grateful, for once, that he functions partly as a coach as well, as with the structuring of their team. He grabs the opportunity with his teeth to not play. Parts of him still ache, and he doesn't want to risk making it worse. Besides, his ankle injury is enough to get him benched temporarily, so it's not a _complete_ abuse of power.

"Why isn't he playing?" He hears Shougo whining, and can hardly stop himself from rolling his eyes; trust Shougo to point every inconsistency out, "What the fuck, how's this fair?"

"My ankle's currently not in great shape," He inwardly winces at how croaky his voice sounds, but he plows through, "But I can still beat you up if you want me to, punk."

 _Act normal_.

"I wasn't saying nothing!" The silver-haired Alpha shrugs lightly, before stealthily making his way to the other side of the court, where the other first-stringers are warming up.

Shuuzou watches him go with tired, heavy eyes. He can still feel the bruises, the strong press of hands against his skin and—no. He's not going to think about it, _he's not going to think about it_.

"Are you sure you want to stay here, Nijimura?" He looks up in surprise at Sanada, who's looking determinedly across the court, "I can pardon you for a day, it won't kill you."

The unspoken ' _you already look half-dead_ ' lingers in the air, but Shuuzou ignores it.

"No, I'm good," The lie feels heavy against his tongue, "Besides, someone's gotta set an example for these brats, right?"

"Nijimura, you _know_ what I'm talking about." The older man fixes him with a stare that Shuuzou dedicatedly ignores, "After that match you haven't been the same—"

"I'm not talking to you about this." He interjects coldly, trying to block his mind from _those thoughts_ , "My ankle's been frustrating me, that's it, that's the story."

Like gifts sent from the Heavens, he sees Ryouta and Daiki starting to get into a heated argument, and waves at them casually.

"Don't you think you should break it apart?" He asks, "Sei's not here today either."

The older man seems to get the hint, levelling him with a glare to no effect, before taking off to the other side of the court in long strides.

Shuuzou sighs once he leaves, head falling back against the wall with a soft _thump_. He can't show any weakness, especially not here. Teiko is not a place for the weak, after all, unless they have someone strong protecting them. In this case, Shuuzou has no one, hence why it's important he treads carefully.

He only just managed to convince his mentor not to go on a murderous rampage the other day, right after their match. He still remembers the horrified realization in the man's eyes, the sickening understanding, and even _thinking_ about it makes him repulsed. He's not entirely sure himself, of how he managed to do it, but it's something he's unwilling to question.

His jacket pocket burns.

He carefully reaches his fingers inside, hand brushing against the rough, scratchy paper hesitantly. He doesn't know what's wrong with him, why he's keeping it with himself, against the basics of common sense. Well, something's always been wrong with him, just that he's never known _what_.

He looks up, sees the main team walking back toward him, undoubtedly for some sort of plan of action. Sanada's not to be seen, though Shuuzou doesn't worry too much about it, and he looks up at them instead.

"Coach didn't tell you what to do yet?"

"No, he hasn't, senpai." A voice sounds from right next to him, and he barely manages to stop the rising flinch when it registers.

"Alright, thanks Tetsuya." He nods, before frowning thoughtfully, "I'm not sure what he wants you to do today, so why don't you just play a 3 on 3?"

"Half or full?" Daiki's grinning already, obviously pumped up.

"Make it a full-court match for now." He orders, "And you can decide the teams."

There's a shocked silence, which makes him blink in surprise, "Well?"

"… _We_ get to decide teams?" Ryouta questions, skepticism coloring his tone, "Are you—are you sure, senpai?"

"Yes." He grinds out, frustrated, "Now go."

The flat tone doesn't seem to fall short on any of them, not even Atsushi or Shougo, because they just look at each other before taking off. Shuuzou doesn't pay them much attention as he settles back, though there's still something gnawing at his mind.

Is he changing? He's trying so hard to be normal, to pretend nothing's ever happened, but people _still_ keep doubting him, keep doubting his words, and it's slightly terrifying. No one can find out. This is a secret Shuuzou wants to take to the grave.

His eyes begin to glaze over as he further slips into his thoughts, until long, pale fingers snap in front of his face, shocking him out of it.

"You seem unfocused today."

"Oh, Sei," He says, a little breathlessly in his surprise to see the redhead, "You back so soon?"

"Yes, apparently, the council did not require my presence for too long," The short Alpha nods, before his ruby eyes flick almost knowingly over Shuuzou's form, "But you didn't answer me, senpai."

"Why would I need to answer you, brat?" Shuuzou ruffles his hair, trying to keep the small grin from slipping, " _I'm_ the senpai here."

But something still pulls at him, makes him want to spill his guts to the Akashi. He doesn't.

"Alright, guys, gather up!" Sanada calls strongly and, luckily, Shuuzou's been sitting next to him the whole time, else he would've had to get up. His mind is a little frayed at the edges from having to watch everyone play for so long without him, and resisting the urge to go join them himself, hence why it feels like his senses have amplified.

Along with the pain.

"Eh~? What is it?" Atsushi drawls out boredly, while Shintaro stares at him unabashedly with a critical eye, "This is boring."

"Patience, Atsushi." Seijuro interjects before Shintaro can lose his patience, turning to Sanada with inquisitive eyes, "What is it that you need to tell us?"

"Right, we'll be having a practice match soon." The brunette says, and Shuuzou wants to rip his hair out because _he can't play damn it, why_.

"Against who?" Daiki frowns, though his eyes begin to light up, as they always do now, "Is it a team we know?"

"Yes, we've played with them recently," Sanada nods, and Shuuzou's gut begins to churn uneasily, voice whispering in his head, "Tanashi High."

 _No_.

His fingernails dig blunt imprints into the inside of his thighs, and he's glad his head is lowered so no one can see his constricted pupils, his fearful trembling. He can't, he can't do this. It's a lie, everything's a lie, _they're lying to him, it can't be real_ —

' _I'll be back for you.'_

"Shuuzou!" He jolts, caught off guard, only to see that the space around him is mostly empty, save for a grim Sanada, "Seriously, what's wrong with you? I understand your injury, but shouldn't you stop slacking off?"

"Slacking off?" He whispers quietly to himself, biting back the bitter laugh that struggles to escape his throat and getting up instead, methodically picking up his stuff, "Yeah, I guess."

He starts limping away before the Coach can even get another word in, sentence burning holes through his mind with how many times he's running over it again and _again_.

He doesn't know what hurts more: his body, or that remark. He's honestly offended, of course he is, but a part of his mind still rings with uncertainty at the thought that maybe he's not fit enough to be captain. Maybe he doesn't deserve it.

He shakes the thought out of his head immediately, eyes scrunching close in the process, before slowing to a stop, noting where he is in almost palpable fear. He's standing, once again, in front of… _that place_. The place he never wants to see or go again.

His mind feels detached from his body, and Shuuzou briefly wonders if he should just quit, give up now, while he still can. But he doesn't want to leave his team alone again, not after what happened last time. Shuuzou doesn't mean to sound arrogant or anything, but that's what he wonders sometimes, that maybe he's taking too much credit.

Still, it's best to play it safe, isn't it?

"Yo, Nijimura, are you gonna go to the bathroom or not?"

He startles at the unexpected voice, sees one of his many faceless year-mates looking at him quizzically almost, and shakes his head.

"Thank you, but no." He shakes his head, quiet, before turning to walk away, "I was caught up in my thoughts, sorry."

He's hyperaware of the student's gaze boring into his back, making his skin prickle, and the feeling doesn't leave him until he turns at the next corridor. He stays still against the wall for a few moments, trying to slow his heart, before berating himself internally. He's trying so hard to be normal when it's clearly not possible and he doesn't know… _he doesn't know what to do_.

His head thumps back against the wall.


	3. Three

"Are you okay?"

This is easily the fourth or fifth time Seijuro's asked him that, and Shuuzou is literally _this_ close to snapping.

"I appreciate the concern," He says, through gritted teeth, "But _why_ do you keep asking me?"

Seijuro pauses from where he's absent-mindedly dribbling the ball, a strange expression of uncertainty flickering over his face, before restoring into its calm.

"No reason." He says daintily, but his eyes widen fractionally when Shuuzou growls at him, and his eyes narrow fractionally.

"Did you just—"

"Yeah," Shuuzou snaps, "I did. _Why do you keep asking me_ , damn it?"

"Because," Seijuro seems to deflate, "You smell kind of anxious."

The ball Shuuzou's holding drops to the court, the sound ringing loudly in his ears. He _smells_ anxious? How…how can Seijuro smell him, when he's using suppressants and scent-blockers and everything?

Seemingly reading his mind, Seijuro gives a light shrug, and a tight-lipped smile.

"I myself am not aware of how I can smell you," Seijuro offers, readying himself to shoot, before the ball zooms through the air, "Especially considering your Beta status."

"Huh." Is all he settles for, before they're enveloped in silence temporarily, the comfortable kind, before, "Where are the rest of the brats?"

"On their way, I'm sure." Seijuro's eyes glint dangerously, and Shuuzou mentally thanks whoever it is out there that gave him such a dedicated vice-captain, "I will summon them, if need arises."

Ah, Sei and his incredibly formal language. Shuuzou doesn't know how he's doing it, but the redhead has managed to banish most of his earlier fear and, yes, anxiety. They're going to have their match soon. In half an hour, in fact.

He takes a deep breath, readying himself to shoot. He's fine. He has his teammates. The…He wouldn't be able to pull anything. He's safe.

oOoOo

They end up needing to call the rest of them anyway, since it's 15 minutes to their game, and the others _still_ aren't here. Well, except Tetsuya, which they figured out when his phone rang from right next to them.

 _'I've been here all along_.' He explained to the stupefied captain, who only sighed and ruffled his hair. Daiki and Ryouta eventually turn up, together, and it doesn't take long for Shuuzou to deduce that the two were playing street basketball before. They're bantering playfully, but it's enough to lighten Shuuzou's mood.

Until, of course, their opponents enter the gym and, from across the court, Shuuzou catches his eyes. He looks away just as quickly, but any concentration he might have had before has completely disappeared and he can't…he can't do it. But he still hangs on by his teeth.

"Captains!" The referee bellows, and Shuuzou's head automatically snaps up; he notes, with relief, that the others have arrived and are dutifully doing their layups, "Please shake hands!"

Each step towards the brunette makes Shuuzou feel as though the ground is pulling more and more from under him. The world spins dizzyingly, his heart rising to his throat, but he manages to lock eyes with the Alpha, and hold out a trembling hand.

Is it quiet? Shuuzou can't tell over the roar of his heartbeat over his ears when his hand is grasped in a tight grip and shook.

His eyes widen when the other pulls him a bit closer—too close—before whispering huskily into his ear.

 _"I told you I'd come back."_

And Shuuzou can't move, shaking getting slightly worse, and the Alpha gets a satisfied smirk on his face at the sight. Shuuzou steps back, hating himself for feeling so overwhelmed, but he can't help it, can't help the fear thrumming through his veins.

Seijuro, the godsend, steps to his side almost immediately, a hand being set gently against his arm as he stares up impassively at the opposing captain.

"We need to decide our game play." Seijuro says, and Shuuzou doesn't bother pointing out the obvious lie ( _they've never had a game plan anyway_ ), too preoccupied with getting away from the taller man.

"Hey, Natsu!" Someone called from the other team, someone with pointy hair, "Get back here!"

"Yeah, yeah!" The brunette calls, eyes never leaving him, smirk ever-present, "I hope for a good game, _Captain_."

Shuuzou bristles slightly, but says nothing, turning his back to the other captain and walking to their side of the court, Seijuro at his side. The redhead is looking at him inquisitively, and Shuuzou is too tired to play any of his games.

"What?" He bites out tiredly, "What is it?"

"I will not pry," Seijuro pauses in his speech, before his brow furrows, "But I do ask that you allow me to choose our team today."

"What?" Shuuzou's surprised, not expecting the conversation to go down that line, "Why?"

Seijuro…he doesn't want to replace him, does he? No, that's dumb. He's being irrational.

"I simply have something I need to take care of." Seijuro's eyes look dark, and Shuuzou can't help the brief thrill that rushes through him at the sight, "If you do not mind, Captain."

Somehow, the title doesn't sound as mocking, coming from Seijuro's mouth.

"Alright," Shuuzou concedes tiredly, "You have my permission to do what you think you need to. But, if anything happens that I don't approve of, we're changing plans immediately."

Seijuro's mouth twists unpleasantly before it's gone in a flash, as though extinguished, and Shuuzou's frown tugs at his lips insistently.

"Fine." He relaxes at the concession, and nods cursorily to the redheaded Alpha, before turning to face the assembled team.

"Seijuro will be assigning all of you today," Shuuzou states, noting the surprise flickering in their eyes, "Go ahead."

Seijuro's eyes glint almost darkly when he begins speaking, and Shuuzou is hardly paying any attention as he recites names from the top of his head…until he realizes he hasn't mentioned Shuuzou's name.

He wants, no, _needs_ to protest the unfairness of it all—Shuuzou didn't give him the opportunity to _bench_ _him_ —but something in him forces him to stay silent and just close his eyes in acceptance. His ankle is dead anyway, so it's not like he can play very long _but still_.

When he opens his eyes, Seijuro is staring at him appraisingly, but even he turns away when their eyes lock. Shuuzou looks out toward the court, seeing that Ryouta and Shintaro are out first. Close range and far range, not a bad choice, but not the best either.

"You're okay with sitting out?" Daiki demands, drawing his attention away from the game, "You're the _captain_ and you're better than some of these losers, so why the hell are you being benched?!"

"Daiki." Seijuro's cold tone makes Shuuzou pause in his answer and, for some reason, a sort of cold ice starts to creep over his heart when he realizes the Alpha's _angry_.

The tanned boy immediately falls silent, mouth pressing into a testy line, before dropping next to Shuuzou. He sees Atsushi eating something and wants to smack it out of his hands, like always, but something in him hesitates. He pulls back his hand.

Ryouta and Shintaro easily win them the first quarter, so that they're ahead by easily 10 points. Shuuzou feels slightly proud when he sees the frustration shown clear on Natsu's face, but says nothing, looking away instead. By the second quarter, they're up to a 20-point lead, and Shuuzou can't help the slow trickle of satisfaction filling his lungs.

"So…thirsty…" He looks to the side, seeing their resident golden retriever sniffling pathetically, head in his hands, "Need…water."

"Stop overreacting," Shougo complains from where he's warming up, "Just go get a fucking water bottle."

Shuuzou looks around him, sees there are none, and sighs, making his decision.

"I'll go get you the goddamn water bottle," He tells the blond Omega, who looks happily up at him with shining eyes, "But you're going to have to owe me a favor that I can call on at any time."

"Yes! Anything!" Ryouta blabbers happily, and Shuuzou just shakes his head, getting up as Shintaro criticizes him for making such a bad deal.

" _You could have gotten it yourself, you idiot! Now you owe him something!_ "

" _Wha~? No, Nijimuracchi would never cheat me!_ "

His hands curl into fists at the nickname.

oOoOo

The corridors are silent, once again, as Shuuzou walks unsteadily toward the locker room. His team is filled with a bunch of idiots, of _course_ they'd all forget their water bottles. Well, he's an even bigger idiot for volunteering to go get them in the first place.

An apprehension fills him, a sudden anxiousness that makes it difficult to see straight. He's all alone, but why doesn't he feel that way?

He quickly steps inside, noting in disgust the stench wafting through the air—probably from either Daiki or Shougo. Despite getting worked up around each other, the two were uncannily similar.

He's pulling out the fourth water bottle—Shintaro's, to be more specific—when he feels the heavy set of hands against his waist and freezes up.

"Didn't tell your teammates about me yet?"

He's hyperaware of the breath ghosting across his neck, making goosebumps rise from his pale flesh. The world begins to spin, faster than ever before, and Shuuzou can't process what's happening.

"How are you here?" He breathes out shakily, twisting out of His grasp, and backing up, "No, you're not real, you can't be real."

"Oh, I'm very much real," He flinches when a thumb is brushed across his cheekbone and hates himself for it, "Did you miss me?"

"N-no, you sick bastard—" He cuts himself off with a gasp when cool fingers rub at the mark near his shoulder, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the sheer pleasure charging through him, " _F-fuck._ "

"Maybe we should let them know," He doesn't resist the lips crashing against him— _can't_ —and only closes his eyes to block everything out, "You're mine, after all."

"Shut up, I'm _not_." He denies, despite the sinking feeling in his gut, "Get _away_ from me."

Brief fragments of memory returns, running by his mind's eye startlingly fast. It's getting harder to breathe, harder and harder and—

He whimpers when he's pinned roughly against the lockers, thighs parted by a strong knee. Natsu's staring at him darkly, a real anger in his eyes that something in Shuuzou needs to submit to…but he doesn't _want_ to.

"You're _mine_." The Alpha reiterates, growling, "From the day I marked you, you've always been mine!"

"No, you're w-wrong!" He's shaking again, eyes welling up with those dreadful tears again, "Please…p-please don't—"

"Please don't _what_?" There's a tongue dragging over the mark, and it feels _disgusting_ but also _so good_ , "Use _my Omega_? You were born to be stuffed with cock, so just _accept it_. You're lucky I found you and not some other Alpha, or you'd be far worse off."

He tries to bite back the sob rising in his throat but fails, and it only worsens when the grip on his wrists grows tighter and tighter, almost to the point that he can't feel them anymore. His head aches from being slammed into the locker, aches from the thoughts running through his head, and _Shuuzou doesn't know what to do_.

The other Alpha's saying something, but Shuuzou can't discern _what_ , not that it matters, but when the other begins leaning back down, his eyes slip close and he waits, starting to give up. Nothing can save him anymore.

He doesn't resist, doesn't fight back, so is rewarded with a pleased hum.

"You're finally learning, aren't you?" Shuuzou doesn't look at him, doesn't look at that hard gaze, eyes glassily staring at the ground, but can feel the hands sliding up his waist from underneath his jersey, pulling him closer, "Just stay still for me."

Right as he's hooking his hands on the waistband of Shuuzou's shorts, Natsu freezes, brown eyes wide with shock, before he's falling down, onto Shuuzou. He doesn't understand what's happening, doesn't know he was supposed to expect that, so ends up being crushed beneath the taller player's weight like a limp rag. It's _heavy_ , the weight on his body, and he shifts around trying to get it off, but he doesn't need to, not for long.

Angry crimson eyes are staring down at him, making him flinch back. He's not sure, but he thinks one of them is slightly different, not that it matters because he's being pulled up by a strong grip.

"Did he hurt you?" Seijuro demands icily.

Shuuzou thinks of his bruised wrists, purpled waist, and shakes his head. He doesn't trust his voice, now that one of them has found out, and _of course it needs to be Seijuro_.

"Don't…don't tell the others." He tries anyway, gingerly backing away from the unresponsive body on the floor, " _Please_."

"He's _ruined_ you," The Alpha spits out, looking at his through a furious gaze, "He's doing this to you and you want me to _not_ get the others?"

"Sei, please," He asks again, mouth bitter from saying the word so many times, "No one can know I'm—"

"Not a Beta?" Seijuro asks rhetorically, mouth pressed into a thin line, "Fine. But I'm not going to spare this vile filth."

"Y-you heard?" He's so shaken that he's stammering now, fear filling him at the thought of having his most closely guarded secret _overheard_ by _Akashi Seijuro_ of all people.

"Yes, but I will not speak of it." Seijuro inclines his head, "Even if I don't approve."

Shuuzou doesn't say anything in response, doesn't protest when Seijuro noses along his scent gland like it's normal and lets himself be led out the double doors.

"Thank you." It's sounds small, and receives no acknowledgment, but Shuuzou whispers it again in his head, just to stop feeling so empty.

oOoOo

They end up winning that match, _201-74_.


	4. Four

"Something's not right with him."

Shuuzou takes a deep breath and turns around to face Shintaro.

"What are you talking about, brat?" He slips his hands into his pockets so the green-eyed boy doesn't see them shaking. They've been doing that a lot, recently.

He's perched on a desk in an empty classroom, at a meeting arranged specifically by his ace shooter. He sounded serious on the phone before, so Shuuzou didn't see any harm in hearing him out. But down this line of reasoning…

"You know," The Beta hunches inward, almost imperceptibly, "Akashi isn't the same."

"Hm." He says, but stops there. It's true. Ever since…ever since _that day_ , Seijuro has been a lot more…well, _unforgiving_ could be one way to describe it. There are a lot of other words as well, but Shuuzou wouldn't know, not exactly, especially since he hasn't seen the redhead in quite some time.

"What do you want me to do about it?" The words are dry, listless even, as they're croaked out into the silence.

"Stop being…like this." Shuuzou sees Shintaro push up his glasses in discomfort, "This isn't normal, not even for you."

"You wanted me to speak to Sei, right?" He clambers down, entirely unwilling to listen to yet another person bashing him for giving up, "Fine, I'll do that. It was nice talking to you."

He moves to brush past his underclassman, only to freeze when his hand is caught by the wrist and everything starts trickling back in and _no he can't think about it now, especially not now_ —

He yanks back his arm after a beat, doing his best to school his features into their usual neutrality, and angrily flicks his eyes at the greenhead.

"See?" Shintaro steps forward, so that he's right beside Shuuzou; and the words that follow make his eyes widen, "You never would have let me—or anyone else—touch you."

"Are you _asking_ me to beat you up?" It's a feeble attempt at distracting himself and both of them know it.

Shintaro just shakes his head, and leaves. Shuuzou doesn't do much, but stand there and let those heavy words resound in his mind.

' _You never would have let me—or anyone else—touch you._ '

He can't find Seijuro, and it's frustrating him almost inexplicably. It shouldn't be this difficult to locate his Vice Captain and, well, he's only a phone call away, but.

Shuuzou flops down on the bed, breath whooshing out of him as he stares blankly at the ceiling. He doesn't _want_ to…no, he _can't_ bring himself to make that call. He doesn't think he can face the younger Alpha anymore, not after all that he saw.

O.o.O

Nijimura Shuuzou's no stranger to the fact that Akashi Seijuro has admired him for a while. He knows that it's rare for the kid to actually _respect_ anyone, but also knows he's on the receiving end of that chain. Well, he's not so sure anymore.

He's tired of disappointing people.

He knew that day, the day he was abandoned for the second time, that presenting as an Omega could only spell misery for him. Misery, and utter helplessness. But he still tried to fight against that train of thought, tried to prove to himself that there's no difference between people of different statuses.

Now he knows he was wrong to think that.

"Something wrong?" He startles at the sudden intrusion, before he glances toward the doorway, tense shoulder slumping in exhaustion.

"No, just thinking." He answers, though he knows the Alpha at the door knows, just as well as he does, how much of a lie that truly is, "Did you need something?"

"You know that if you ever need anything, I'm here for you." There's something raw in his mentor's eyes, something that makes Shuuzou want to choke on his tears, so he looks away, "Right?"

"Yeah." The word scrapes its way through his throat, a testimony of how _not okay_ he is, and he shudders lightly, before continuing, "I know that, Dad."

A hand is being run through his hair protectively, and Shuuzou can't ignore his instinct to move closer to the warmth.

"I'm sorry." The words are whispered into the crown of his head, and he stiffens immediately in response, straining to look up, "I did this to you. If I hadn't pushed you so hard…"

 _"_ _What are you talking about?"_ Shuuzou wants to question, wants to start up a storm, but he says nothing, just remains silent and looks on as impassively as he can, unwilling to let them break down together. But the words still resound heavily in his head:

 _I'm sorry. This is all my fault_.

O.o.O

He finally catches Seijuro at school the next day. Well, to say _Shuuzou_ 's the one who found him would be a lie, since he was really only walking to class when he was delivered a neatly folded paper.

And, as per the note's instructions, he is currently standing in the abandoned club room, picking absent-mindedly at the imaginary lint on his trousers, briefly wondering why all his teammates suddenly want to keep meeting up in abandoned places.

He glances up sharply when he hears the door scraping open, eyes immediately flitting away in an attempted show of nonchalance. Shuuzou knows Seijuro would likely not fall for it, considering _who_ exactly he is, but it doesn't hurt to pretend everything's normal.

To pretend everything's alright.

"Did you need something, Sei?" He asks instead, voice a misleadingly calm contrast to his inner torrent of emotions, all tinged in alertness, "We haven't heard from you in days."

"You were looking for me, were you not, Nijimura senpai?" The cool, detached voice Shuuzou hasn't heard in a long, _long_ time sounds out, and he can't help the fact that his eyes widen, gaze straying back to the redhead.

"Seijuro?" He questions hesitantly, the dark of the clubroom making it so much more difficult to see, "Are you…what's going on with you?"

"Who is asking?" The Alpha is pacing, still too far for him to see, and Shuuzou can't find it in himself to get up, "You? Or Shintaro?"

"Both." Shuuzou finally snaps out, close to ripping his hair out in frustration, and all the more unnerved by the younger boy's icy tone, "Seriously, Seijuro, tell me what's wrong."

"Did _you_ tell me what was wrong, earlier?" The question has him floundering for a second, blood roaring over his ears, as he struggles to grasp a focus on what's happening, "I do not recall you doing so, senpai. So, it makes sense to remain the same towards you."

"It does _not_." He hisses, but at this point, it is more to himself than to Seijuro, "It's different."

"How so?" He doesn't move when footsteps come closer, in a cautious dance, "Tell me how it is different."

"Why should I?" Shuuzou questions tersely, mentally berating himself for letting things get so far, "I don't have any obligation to, Seijuro."

He flinches when he feels fingers brushing against the mark on his collar; he didn't realize that Seijuro came so close already.

"Are you sure?" There's something in the Alpha's voice that has Shuuzou stiffening, "You…do not feel like telling me _anything_?"

"No, nothing at all." He finally bites out, pushing himself up by his palms, "Stop fucking wasting my time, Seijuro."

His wrist is grabbed, for the second time, only now he's actually tugged backwards; something he'd normally be able to resist, with all facilities functioning. But right now, that's not the case. And Seijuro has the entire advantage.

"What do you want from me?" He sighs, resigned, eyes lifting from the ground to lock with Seijuro's.

And he tenses at the sight of familiar clash of red and gold gazing piercingly back at him. The hand around his wrist grows tighter in response to his shock, and a patronizing smirk creeps onto thin lips as the Alpha moves closer. This isn't Seijuro.

This is Akashi.


End file.
